


Someplace to Land

by TeamFreeWill12



Series: Learning to Fly [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mute!Cas, eventual bunker life, fallen!cas, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFreeWill12/pseuds/TeamFreeWill12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occurs after 8x23, "Sacrifice." Where Cas ends up after the Angel storm, how Dean finds him. This is the first part of a possible 3 part series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One, Part One

_The sky was a dark, inky midnight dotted here and there with bright stars. The night was serene, the breeze that blew was cool and calm, making the trees flutter and the leaves dance._

_It was a beautiful night for stargazing, for just lying in the soft grass, figuring out the constellations, just being one with nature._

_That's how it began. He was lying on his back looking up at the sky, marveling at the beauty of his Father's creation, the expansiveness of it, when the first light streaked across the sky._

_His whole being filled with dread, he came to his feet as there was another, and another, until the sky was streaked with bright lights._

_"Please, no. Not again. Please."_

_His eyes filled with tears as he was forced to watch the endless scene yet again, unable to look away, unable to stop it. Once the sky was finally dark again, he closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled heavily on a ragged sob._

_"Cas?"_

_He turned sharply to see Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala._

_"Dean." It didn't matter it was only a dream. He was glad to see his friend. He would take what he could get._

_Dean slid off the hood and moved toward him. "You alright, man?"_

_Cas sighed and looked up at the sky helplessly._

_"Well, obviously not, if you're still having this nightmare."_

_Cas swung his gaze to meet Dean's. There was nothing but sympathy in those green eyes. No rancor, no blame, which, even in his dreaming state, was nothing short of miraculous._

_"Cas? Talk to me."_

_"No, Dean. I'm not ok. I'll never be ok. This was my fault. I should've listened--" His words were cut off as Dean came forward and grasped his shoulder tightly._

_"Don't, Cas. Do_ not _blame yourself for what that dick Metatron did. You were caught in between a rock and an even dickier rock. You couldn't have known Naomi was telling the truth, not after what she did to you."_

 _"_ You _knew," he replied softly, unable to meet Dean's gaze._

 _"No," Dean denied. "I didn't_ know _. I just couldn't take the chance. Not with Sam's life. That just happened to be the one time she wasn't lying."_

_He knew that. Of course he knew that. It is as it's always been, how it should be. Dean would always err on the side of caution when it came to Sam. Well, until Sam's mortality became an issue. Then it was a hard fight to do whatever he could to save his brother. Sometimes it was a long and irrational fight, but Dean got results._

_But it was Castiel's own irrationality and need to fix things that got him where he was. It was_ he _who killed the Nephilim,_ he _was the one who took the Cupid's bow. It was_ his _Grace that was used to kick the angels out of Heaven._

_"Cas?"_

_"I miss you!" He burst out, his throat clogged with tears._

_Dean immediately went into action. "Tell me where you are."_

_Castiel couldn't speak, could only shake his head. They'd had this argument before. Dream or not, Castiel had refused to reveal his location to Dean. He didn't want to be found._

_"Cas."_

  _"No, Dean. I can't."_ _  
_

_  " You _ can _. Come on, buddy. I need you. Now, more than ever." _

_ Dream Dean never played fair. _

_  " I'm useless, Dean. I'm not what I once was." _

_ Dean laughed bitterly. "Who is?" _

_ " Dean, I'm serious. I have no voice, I have no Grace-" _

_ " Cas . Stop. You are the exact same person you've always been. You just went total human.  So Scotty can't beam you up. So your super smiting powers are  kaput . We don't need you because of your mojo. And as for your voice...we'll figure it out, man. Just tell me where you are, and I will come get you." _

_ Cas  searched Dean's face for the answers to the  questions  he was afraid to ask. _

_ " Cas ?" _

_ He couldn't take anymore. _

_ "Wyoming.  Just over the border.  T here's a motel and cafe in the middle of nowhere off of  highway 789 just north of  Baggs . " _

_ "I'm coming." _

_ "Dean?" _

_ He turned around to find himself alone in the darkness, Dean and the Impala both gone. _

_ "Dean? " _


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit about Cas' brain.

Castiel jerked awake, his breathing ragged. It took him a moment to remember where he was, that he was just having another nightmare.

He rubbed his hands over his face, the stubble on his cheeks scraping his palms. He was exhausted. Since he'd become human, he needed to rest, but he fought it as long as he could.

Sleep was a terrifying experience.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw his brothers and sisters falling to the earth, their wings burning to ash before they hit the ground. So he was reluctant to sleep. But it wasn't just the nightmares that disturbed him, _all_  of his dreams disturbed him.

Sometimes he would dream of his old life in Heaven, how it used to be before he dragged Dean out of the pit. His brothers and sisters who were still his comrades in the time before he slaughtered a good chunk of Heaven.

From these dreams he would wake sobbing, his face drenched, aching inside from loss and guilt. Those feelings were a lot to deal with when he was an angel, but as a human, they were almost too much to handle.

The dreams weren't all bad, but they still inspired a hint of sadness in him in his waking hours. Oftentimes he would dream of Dean and Sam, being their third wheel, going on hunts, getting things right, earning smiles and respect from the brothers. Not feeling useless because his angel mojo was gone.

These dreams seemed so real to him. Maybe because he wanted it so badly. After burning his bridges with Heaven, after realizing the Host didn't care if he survived or not, after being used over and over, he realized he belonged with the Winchesters. And not because Heaven wanted nothing more to do with him, but because Sam and Dean were his _family_.

But that was before his Grace was stolen and he became useless.

His Grace and his uselessness were the subject of many conversations between himself and Dream Dean. For a while, all Cas could do was apologize, even though he _knew_  Dean was tired of his apologies. And at first, yes, Dean was angry, and there was yelling, but Castiel welcomed the yelling. A blustery Dean was better than a quiet, mechanical Dean. When Blustery Dean was around, he left room for forgiveness.

Not that he _deserved_ any forgiveness.

He was just glad that Dream Dean wasn’t coldly furious.

At first, Dean yelled because of what he thought Castiel had done. Then he yelled about what Cas told him had happened, about Metatron and his perfidy, and how the Scribe had stolen not only his Grace, but his voice as well, dumping him in a field in the middle of nowhere to watch the sky light up with falling angels.

Castiel accepted the blame for what happened. It was his fault for being naïve, for believing in someone his Father had trusted at one time, believing without question and following blindly.

His loyalty had been aimed at the wrong family. When Naomi told him and Dean about Metatron’s plan to expel all the angels from Heaven, that Sam was going to die if he completed the Demon trials. Dean told him to listen, that maybe for once she was telling the truth. He should have listened to Dean. He should have questioned the situation more. But there had been no time. He firmly believed he was doing the right thing. He should have known better. He always screwed up when left to his own devices.

He would never be able to forgive himself. He couldn’t ask Dean’s forgiveness, not when he’d been so angry about Castiel taking off with the angel tablet, not when he showed a lack of trust in Dean, repeatedly. Even if Dean could forgive him, Castiel wouldn’t ask that of him. He most definitely didn’t deserve forgiveness.

So he wouldn’t be seeking out the Winchesters, no matter how much he wanted to, to matter how much he missed them, no matter how many times Dream Dean asked. His home in Heaven was gone, he couldn’t go back to Sam and Dean, couldn’t disappoint them yet again.

He had to find his own place in the world.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I got EXTREMELY ill just before I was to post the third part, so I wasn't able to do any sort of writing. AND I lost the doc that I had started on, so of course I started over.   
> No beta, there may be mistakes, but it's here!  
> I hope you enjoy.

“Blueberry short stack, side of pig extra crispy and Denver omelet, extra everything!”

Ding!

 

_After waking up alone, Graceless and voiceless, the Earth hard and rocky beneath him, after watching his brothers and sisters plummet from the sky, their wings burning into ash…_

_At first, he wanted to die. But death was too easy, and he didn’t deserve easy. So he stood and stared at the night sky and grieved for each angel he saw fall._

_It was only when the sky was completely dark that he started walking. He didn’t know where he was, he was only sure where he couldn’t go._

_Heart heavy, Castiel walked until dawn, his body weary. His tongue was thick and his stomach was empty. Human now, he would need to feed himself. Human now, there were a lot of things he would have to do that he hadn’t before._

_Castiel nearly cried in relief when he spotted a motel and a diner practically in the middle of nowhere. He still had some money left over from his failed shopping excursion, he would be able to quench his thirst and obtain sustenance and maybe rest while he figured out what to do next._

_He needed a plan._

_Communicating was his first hurdle._

_He wearily trudged through the glass door of the diner, a bell tinkling to announce his arrival. He slid into the first available booth, one near the windows. His feet ached. His everything ached._

_“Hi there. My name is Jenny and I’ll be your waitress today.”_

_Castiel smiled tiredly up at the cheery young blonde woman as she sat a glass of ice water and a menu in front of him. “What can I get you to drink?”_

_He opened his mouth to ask for coffee, but shook his head and pointed to his throat. Jenny understood immediately. “Oh. You can’t speak?”_

_He nodded._

_“Do you sign?” She asked with her voice and her hands._

_He shook his head._

_She tilted her head in confusion. “Is this a new occurrence, then?”_

_He nodded._ Accident, _he mouthed._

_“You were in an accident?” She immediately started looking him over for signs of injury. “Did it just happen?”_

_Nod._

_“Do I need to call the police?”_

_He held out a hand to stop her_. No.

_“Well…Is there someone I can call for you? A wife, some family maybe?”_

_Blue eyes grew thoughtful. His only family was lost to him. The angels were gone and he refused to burden Sam and Dean with his problems. Eventually he shook his head._

_Her green eyes filled with sympathy. “Oh, hon. I’m sorry. Do you have anywhere to go?”_

No.

_“Do you…remember who you are?”_

_He blinked at the question and nodded slowly._

_“Ok, so you don’t have amnesia, and your eyes look clear so you don’t seem to have a concussion…Do you remember hitting your head?”_

_He shook his head grimly. No, Metatron had been kind enough to place him back on Earth gently instead of hurling him from above._

_“Ok, then, you got a name?”_

_He looked up at her silently. “Oh. Of course. Here.” She placed her tablet and pencil in front of him. He hesitated briefly before picking up the pencil and scratching out “Cas.”_

_“Cas? Well, nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Jenny.” He shook the hand she offered. “Ok, Cas. Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were in an accident, and you aren’t injured, but you can’t speak, and you don’t sign. You remember everything, but there’s no one I can call and you don’t have anywhere to go when you leave here. Have I got that right?”_

_He nodded._

_“Ok, well, welcome to the Sunnyside Diner and Motel, Cas. First things first. I’m gonna get you some breakfast and then we’re gonna get you sorted out. How does that sound?”_

_He hesitated. His funds were limited. He needed to be careful with what he had._

_“Listen,” she confided, sensing his hesitation. “I find it’s easier to solve the big problems when your stomach isn’t yelling at you. How about some coffee?”_

_He nodded gratefully. She smiled and touched his shoulder briefly. “I’ll be right back.”_

_By the time he’d finished the huge platter of bacon, eggs and potatoes Jenny had brought him, she had a few of his problems solved. They’d just lost one of their dishwasher/bus boys, so it didn’t take much to convince Jenny’s boss Earl to hire Cas on, voice or no voice. And since Earl owned both the diner and the motel, Cas had a place to stay, providing he could also help out there when needed._

_He tentatively accepted the offers, quickly realizing this was the beginning of his new life, sans Heaven, sans Winchesters. After breakfast, Earl took him next door to the motel and set him up in a small room near the office and told him to get some rest, that he could start work at the diner the next afternoon. “But make sure you come in for lunch and dinner. Jenny would have my hide if you weren’t fed.” Jenny’s kindness didn’t stop there. She stopped by the next morning before her shift with plastic bags of clothing that her brother had left behind when he’d gone off to college and a book on sign language._

_Castiel didn't feel as if he deserved her kindness. But maybe_ Cas _did._

 

"Fry two, let the sun shine and one Adam and Eve on a raft!"

Ding!

It's been about six months. He's jumped a few more hurdles since his Fall.

Thanks to his new family.

Jenny helped him learn to communicate--her brother had been born deaf so she'd had to learn sign language. She was an excellent teacher and an excellent friend. Languages came easy to him, but learning to use his hands to speak was slightly more difficult, so he used pen and paper for a while, until signing became second nature.

His hands became more than weapons, more than instruments of destruction.

Thanks to Earl, he learned to wield a hammer, learned to care for the environment around him. He even learned the basic inner workings of an automobile, learning on the junked loaner Earl lent him. (Thanks to Earl's wife Daisy, he knew how to drive the thing, but not without a few minor mishaps. That's how he learned how to replace the bumper. And the side mirror.)

He found he wasn't too destructive in the kitchen, and as a matter of fact, was a pretty good cook, thanks to Jimmy, the young man in charge of the kitchen. He, too, had some trouble finding his way, and was adopted by Earl and Daisy.

Cas found they liked to take in strays from time to time. It awed and humbled him how much trust the older couple put in him and the other wayward children they let in. They gave as much as they possibly could, and wanted very little in return. Cas would give them as much as he could. He didn't want to let them down. So when one of the strays fled the coop, Jimmy taught him the ways of the grill.

Since he did so well, Daisy taught him the art of baking. They liked to provide their own pies and cakes, and not get them from a bakery.

The first thing Cas learned to make was apple pie. It wasn't perfect, his first. The apples were crunchy, the crust burnt in some places, raw in others, but he quickly got the hang of it and moved onto other flavors, even perfecting his own pie crust recipe. 

His diner family taught him a great deal, more than watching the whole of humanity for milennia did.

Almost as much as the Winchesters.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's turn

Dean woke with a jerk, disoriented.

_What the fuck? Where am I?_

It took him a moment to realize where he was and that he was safe. He concentrated on calming his breathing, and since it was dark, tried to figure out his surroundings by touch.

The blankets beneath him were soft and clean. They smelled fresh, like fabric softener—but not the one with the creepy ass bear.

He exhaled in a rush. He was home. He was home in the bunker and he was ok. Well, that depended on the definition of ok he was using at the moment.  
   
Throwing the blankets off, Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and clicked on the lamp, blinking against the light before closing them, trying to remember what woke him.   
   
He'd woken with a sense of urgency, the need to act racing through his veins. He listened hard for any noises in the hall. It had been months since he’d stopped Sam from completing the third trial, but Dean was still sleeping with his door partially open in case his little brother needed him.  He probably didn’t need to—the coughing fits had subsided, and Sam was getting better as time went on, but he listened, just in case.

_Ok, so it wasn’t Sam, and it wasn’t Kevin skulking about, so what was it?_

 It took him a moment to remember what he'd been dreaming of.

_Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?_

The air sucked out of his lungs.  
   
 _Cas._ He'd been dreaming of Cas. Again. Like so many other nights.  It was just a regular dream, not a nightmare, so why was he freaking out? Lucky for him, the chances were 50/50 these days, unlike the early months following the angel showers, when the forecast was a 100% chance of nightmares.   
   
The nightmares were strong right after. Even though his brother was safe, he still worried. And he didn't know what happened to Cas, if he was even alive after the fall...

  
During the waking hours, he could put on a show for Sam, pretending he was ok. It was the Winchester Status Quo, right? But when he slept, when he _could_ sleep, he dreamed of his brother succumbing to his injuries the Hell trials had put him through. He dreamed of Cas falling from the sky, his wings burning, his body broken on the ground, like so many had reported. 

(Just another thing to lay at Cas' feet. Just another thing to add to the guy's ever-growing pile of things to feel guity for.)

The not knowing, it was almost too much. No matter how he tried to cover and be strong, Dean was a total wreck. In the weeks following the Fall, more often than not he would wake screaming. He would fight and flail until a pair of strong arms banded around him, a voice whispering "It's ok, Dean. You're safe. I'm safe. We're ok." When he realized it was his brother alive, he would calm down and head for the kitchen for some coffee, or a beer. There would be no more sleep that night, there would be no discussion about the dreams. 

For a while, Sam tried to get him to take something to help him sleep, something that wasn’t whiskey, something that wasn’t habit-forming, but Dean had to deal his own way. He didn’t drink himself into oblivion as often as he used to when something bad went down, but he could have. He chose not to, because he had to be in decent shape in case Sam or Kevin needed him. He owed them that.  
   
It had been months since the sky lit up with angels. It had been fewer months since the nightmares had calmed down. They hadn't gone away completely, but they’d been interspersed with dreams that were more…serene, familiar...comforting.  
   
Ever since Cas sat next to him on a bench while he watched a four-year-old Sammy play at a park, the dreams had been different, on the other end of the spectrum from the nightmares. If he were in his right mind, he’d swear he was being dreamwalked.

He welcomed these dreams. They calmed him down, helped him rest, helped him get through the day.   
 

The dreams were so simple. He would be somewhere familiar, the playground with Sam, his favorite fishing hole, at Bobby’s, in a field, on the road in the Impala, and it was just him. But then it was him and Cas, talking. Just talking, being real.

The first time Cas showed up, he had apologized over and over again. Dean got angry. He was tired of Cas always being sorry for _something_. “Actions speak louder than words, man.” Cas didn’t stick around for long after that. Didn’t surprise Dean. Cas always left.

The next time he showed up, Cas apologized again and asked for a chance to explain. Dean didn’t get mad that time. He was tired of being mad. He patiently listened to Cas’ story about the spell and how Metatron had tricked him. Dean could feel the shame emanating from his friend, but he listened without judgment, without trying to provide any answers.  He was just… Dean was just insanely glad to see his friend not burning or broken. Physically, at least.

   
He knew it wasn't real. But all the same, the dreams gave him a sense of peace.   
   
The next time, it was Dean’s turn to speak.

Dean, not a huge voicer of feelings, made plain the hurt and betrayal he’d felt when Cas hadn't trusted him, hadn't believed in him and had time and again believed in the angels who had shown no remorse in tricking him, using him as a weapon, or just plain tried to kill him.

It was then that Cas told him that Metatron had stolen his Grace, his voice…and that's how Dean knew it wasn't real. Graceless angels weren’t able to dreamwalk. 

Of course it wasn't real. It was just his subconscious trying to make him feel better, trying to make him believe Castiel was still alive somewhere in the world.

He wanted to believe. He just didn't know if he could.

   
But there was something about this dream that seemed _extra_ real. He closed his eyes and tried hard to remember what it was.

  
Then his eyes popped open. 

_"Son of a bitch!"_


	5. Five

Dream  Cas  told him where he was. 

_ Dream  Cas _ _told him where he was._  

He had a location, a starting point.  _ Even if _  it wasn't real,  _ even if _  his brain was making things up,  grasping at straws,  _ e ven  if _ it  was just wishful thinking,  it was his only lead.  And he wasn’t about to let the trail get cold.

Unwilling to waste time, Dean scrambled out of bed  and pulled on the jeans and plaid he’d dumped on the floor in exhaustion just a few hours earlier. He was still tired,  and it was dark and cold  out ,  but there was no way he wasn’t going right then, so he headed for the kitchen to brew some coffee for the road.

While he was waiting for the coffee,  he thought about scribbling a note on the dry erase message board Charlie had insisted on installing in the kitchen for shopping list s and  important case  notes .  And chore assignments.  She had them doing chores.

Secretly, he didn’ t mind the chores. It seemed like a very sisterly thing for Charlie to do. The only chores his dad ever made him do  had  to do with hunting or taking care of Sam. Staying at Bobby’s had meant that you cleaned up your own damn mess because Bobb y wasn’t “your damn maid.” The year he lived with the Braedens, Lisa had been  in charge of issuing Ben’s chores; all Dean had to do was enforce them. All he had to do was take care of his truck and the yard and just help Lisa  to keep Ben from walking into traffic on the daily.

Oftentimes he would remember  moments with flirty glances and authentic smiles he and Lisa shared while they were doing the dishes, moments that Dean would never take back, would never regret,  would  always remember .  In those short moments, he was at peace.  He was glad to have a little of what he had missed, grateful to have had it for as long as he did.

He wanted more  moments  with his family. Sam. Charlie. Kevin. 

Cas .

A lot changed that day of the third trial, the night the angels  Fell, but all Dean could do was take care of his family.  Sam had to get better, Kevin had nowhere to go, and Dean wanted to keep Charlie close and safe because since  the King was dethroned, there’d  been rumblings of a new sheriff in town downstairs.  The bunker was the safest place for her, in his opinion.

Dean had asked Charlie  to  uproot her life--yet again-- to  move to Kansas, to move into the bunker , via  Skype a few days after the heavens lit up. He’d gotten phone calls, texts, and emails that night, all from her, pretty much all at once, asking what he knew about the light show. “What did you  do ? Skype me,  now,  bitches!”    


Dean  _ asked _  her. He gave her a choice. When she floundered, he explained to her his concerns, that the war between Heaven and Hell was  more than likely  coming to Earth ,  so she needed to be prepared,  and  also  that he needed to know she was safe. 

_ He needed to know she was safe. _  That was  all he needed to say to Charlie. She’d read the Gospels, she knew Dean Winchester, knew that there was great significance in those words he’d chosen.  She saw the gravity of the situation in his tired eyes and the frown lines around his mouth. He was tired and worried, and part of that worry was for her. The least she could do is humor him. She owed him, big. The whole world did, actually. If she could help just by being there, then she would be there for him, protecting him under the guise of him protecting her. 

She’d put in for a transfer immediately. When it came through, she packed her little yellow car with all the belongings tha t mattered, having learned how to pack fairly light after the whole Dick fiasco, and headed toward the little hobbit  hole  in Leba non and its vast array of hidden knowledge she couldn’t wait to get her hands on. 

That’s what she and Sam have been working on—organizing and reorganizing and cataloguing and making everything digital.  All the nerdy stuff that Dean doesn’t get, but is proud of his brother for.  He’d done his bit, doing the heavy lifting when needed . They even dragged Kevin into the fray. He was still a prophet, THE prophet, and he really didn’t have much to do. He was still trying to translate the angel tablet, by far the most difficult of the three, but at Sam’s insistence, Kevin took a break, tried to focus on getting better himself. Once he’d rested up and eaten properly he got back to work, but not at the same rate as before. Now that there wasn’t so much pressure on, the kid could relax a little. Maybe be a kid again. Play some video games with Charlie, go over colleges with Sam. Be anything but a tool for  that deadbeat dad God, anything  but a motherless son.

There’ s been laughter, and fun, and peace. U neasy as it sits, it’ s still peace. The four have become a tight family unit in the past months, but there’s still something missing.  _Someone_   missing.

If he’s alive, Dean wants to know. If  Cas  is alive, then Dean has got to find him. No matter what shape he is in,  Dean  wants Castiel  to know that he has a place saved in this little bunker family for him. But Dean won’t force him. _ If _ , and it is a big _ if _ , _if_ he finds  Cas , he will simply provide him with the same choice and argument he gave Charlie, but with some modifications.

If he can at least know his friend is alive and well, maybe he would be able to sleep through the night. If he can know his best friend is alive and well and living under his roof he might be able to sleep through the night without nightmares.  Maybe.

(What Dean would do if  Cas  refused or the lead was a dead end was still a mystery.  One step at a time.)

As the coffee maker hissed and spit behind him, he picked up the green marker Charlie designated as his —trying to forget the whole “you know, because of your  fanfiction  green eyes” conversation she'd tried to have with him.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the board, trying to figure out what to write that wouldn’t freak anyone out. He didn't know what he  wanted to  say, but he did want to  keep  Cas ’ name out of it until he knew for certain. He decided on "Going out  to check up on a lead.   I’ll check in  when everyone's awake." He hesitated  again  before signing it simply “D” and grinning as he wrote “Be good. No  keggers .”

He had a lead. Real or not, he had a lead. He had to do _something_. If he didn’t, he would go crazy not knowing. Awake and alone, getting ready for this journey, he could be very honest about his reasons for the journey.  He felt like he was in Purgatory again . He couldn’t find his angel, but this time there was no one to watch his back and save him.

Dean tried to ignore the ache he felt deep inside when he thought about losing his friend over  and over , again and again, tried to ignore the loneliness when it started bubbling up to the surface. He wasn’t ashamed of these feelings, but it was hard for him to speak of them when Charlie asked him point blank about how he was feeling. “And yes, Dean, this  is  veering into chick flick territory, so strap on your vagina and talk to me.“  She went on to declare that his business  was the Queen’s business, so all she had to do was invoke the right of monarch/handmaiden confidentiality , assuring him that anything he tells her will stay with her.

When he looked into the eyes of the girl he thought of as a sister, he sees that he can trust her implicitly. He doesn’t have to be embarrassed with her. Sam would never let him live this down, but Dean knows he can trust Charlie.

Even so, he doesn’t give her all the info. Doesn’t tell her just how much he misses  Cas . (But she knows.)  Doesn’t tell her about the nightmares he has. (But she knows.)  Doesn’t tell her how little he actually sleeps. (But she knows.)

He told  everything to Dream  Cas , though. In quiet, earnest words Dean told him about his bunker family, complete with visits from Jody Mills and even Garth popping in between jobs, and how much he’s enjoying it. He saw the angel’s composure falter slightly at Dean’s words. “I’d be enjoying it a hell of a lot more if I had my best friend with me.”  The surprise reflected in those blue eyes made his chest ache. The resignation that settled in those eyes made it ache worse. 

“I can’t.”

That was the only answer Dean got when he asked  Cas  to tell him where he was, the only answer  Cas  gave when Dean would wish aloud for  Cas  to come home.

Dean got a different answer this time, so Dean was going to strike while the iron was hot.

After filling a thermos and a to- go cup  he consulted his phone to find  out the quickest route,  he was out the door and on the road. 


	6. Six

It was still dark, that dusky dark just before daybreak, in that tiny pocket of time where there was complete silence before everything started to wake up.

 

And it was cold, so friggin’ cold.

 

He quickly got into the car and started her up. He was impatient, but he couldn’t drive off without her being properly warmed up, so he huddled in his seat and tried to calculate his ETA, with minimal stops.

 

It was a nine, maybe ten hour drive. If he was lucky, he could do it in eight and reach Baggs by late afternoon. If things went well, he could be back here by the same time tomorrow. 

 

He didn’t want to think about that time, though, not just yet. There was so much that could possibly happen between now and then.  He was setting himself up for so much disappointment, that much he already knew. But he couldn’t ignore the lead, couldn’t just sit on his hands and pretend it was just a dream.

 

So he left the bunker and he drove. He hit the highway and drove as fast as he dared while he was still under the cover of night, anxiety and hope and dread all riding shotgun in the silent car.

 

He stopped once, and only because he had to. About two hours in, his stomach started to rumble. He kept driving. An hour after that, his bladder was demanding attention. He ignored his bladder’s battle cry of nature for another half hour, but he couldn’t ignore Baby and her needs. And she needed gas.

 

He stopped in western Nebraska to fill up the tank. Instead of wasting time in the coffee shop attached to the truck stop, he grabbed a prepackaged sandwich to shut his stomach up and got back on the road as quickly as he could, after going online to search for diners in the middle of nowhere in Baggs, Wyoming.

 

He was almost surprised when Lord Google gave him a hit.

 

 _Well, son of a bitch_. He took a second to marvel at his luck and then pressed down on the accelerator a bit more.  

 

He drove until he found the right exit, drove until he found the motel/diner on the fringes of nowhere.

  
He pulled into the parking lot and sat with the engine idling, just staring at the building. He was nervous. He was afraid of being disappointed.  What if his subconscious had tricked him and Cas wasn’t in there?

 

But what if he _was?_

  
Dean took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, closing his eyes for a moment to brace himself before he killed the engine and got out.  His steps were slow and measured, his mind screaming at him to just _Stop being a pussy, Dean Winchester, and get in there!_  
 

Never had he been so hesitant to enter the land of burgers and pie.  His hands shook as he pulled the glass door open and walked through, a bell tinkling to announce his entrance.  
   
If there had been a lunch crowd, it had dispersed. Only a few patrons remained, scattered. Seated in booths, at the counter, no one looked up when he walked in. Dean guessed they were used to strangers.   
   
He slid into a booth, his back to the door, and continued his perusal. For the first time he thought WHAT IF CAS WASN'T CAS? What if, when he fell, something had happened to Jimmy's meat suit? How would he recognize him? Especially if he didn't want to be found.

 

The thought didn’t make any sense, but neither did the journey.  
   
His thoughts were interrupted by a chipper blonde waitress who placed a glass of ice water and a menu in front of him.  

  
"Hi there, she greeted him. “Can I get you some coffee while you give the menu a look-see?”

  
"Yes," he responded gratefully. "Thanks."

  
She leaned over to him confidentially. "I don't know if you’re hungry, or if you're the type who eats dessert first, but one of our guys makes THE best pies with the flakiest crust that just melts in your mouth. They are absolutely heavenly.”

  
Dean was about to say no, but then his stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before, the truck stop sandwich having been forgotten.

  
"Well there's your answer,” she laughed. "Cherry, peach or blueberry?"   
   
"Cherry," he answered immediately. "Thanks."    
   
"Back in a flash," she winked at him.

 

His terse smile faded as she walked away. This trip might have been a wild goose chase, but at least he'd get some pie out of the situation. 

When the cheery waitress returned, she sat the pie in front of him with a flourish before pouring him a mug of coffee. 

"It's still warm," she confided. "I was going to take the liberty of plopping a scoop of vanilla on top, but I decided against it. Your first taste needs to be pure."

"It's _that_ good, huh?" he asked skeptically. 

She laughed. "Try it and see."

He took up a fork and cut a piece that dripped with cherries. He carefully put it in his mouth and slid right into pie nirvana. "Mmmm. Ok. Yeah."

"Didn't I tell you?" she said knowingly. “And those are _fresh_ cherries. And the crust is from _scratch_. "

 "Mmmm,” he mumbled, his mouth full. Swallowing that first bite, he took a sip of water. “My compliments to the chef. It's one of the best I've ever tasted."

"Well, the new guy will be pleased to hear that." She tsked at herself. “I should stop calling him the new guy. He’s been here for months.”

"Well, seems like the new guy is a master pastry chef."

"Amazing, isn't it? Hard to believe he just learned to bake not long ago, huh?"

Dean was about to ask a few more questions but she excused herself to wait on another table, so he finished his pie in silence and sipped on his black coffee.

Ok the pie was DAMN amazing. He might need to take some home to the bunker. 

He needed _something_ to show for this goose chase. 


	7. Seven

"Hey,  Cas . You've got a new fan!"  Jenny  came swinging back into the kitchen with a new order that she placed in front of him.  

He turned away from the chicken he was about to fry. "What do you mean?" he signed quickly.  Jenny  was a blessing. Since her younger brother was a mute she knew sign language and taught Cas  how to communicate with his hands. He'd picked up on that easily enough, and even though he couldn't use his voice, he  was able to  communicate with a few people with a few gestures and with the notepad that he kept in his pocket.  

"I just served a piece of your cherry masterpiece to some guy just now.  Seems to be a pie expert.  He said it was one of the best pieces he'd ever had. He didn't see me watching, but I could practically see him having a  food gasm  while he was eating." 

Cas  stopped flouring the chicken, his heart stopping.  It couldn't be.  He swallowed hard and turned to fully face  Jenny . "What did he look like?" his hands asked.

"Gorgeous ," Jenny swooned.  " Tall. Broad. Beautiful lips.  Oh, a nd the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen." 

Cas  inhaled sharply.  Dean. It was Dean.  All at once, he was scared and nervous. How had he found him? How was it even possible? 

"What's wrong,  Cas ?"  Jenny  asked in concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost." She placed her hand on his forehead to see if he was hot. "Are you ok?" 

Cas  didn't answer. He just pulled away and went to peer through the order window at the dining room. Sure enough, slouching in a booth by the  windows,  was Dean Winchester. 

This couldn't be a coincidence.  It had to have been the dream last night. He thought they were just dreams. Dean couldn't actually be  there. Cas  could no longer  dreamwalk .  It wasn't possible.  

But there he was. Dean.  His friend. His family.  If he'd come looking for him. .. Dean could be there to tell him off.  He could be there with  a plan for how to fix what  Cas  had broken.  

He didn't know if he could do it. Whatever it was, he didn't know if he could do whatever it was that Dean was going to ask of him. He didn't think he was strong enough.  

He moved away from the window and leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. 

" Cas , are  you ok? Do you know him?" 

He opened his eyes and looked at the girl who had been his first friend here. Worry was evident on her face.  He quickly signed to her. "I'm fine.  And yes, I do know him." 

"I thought you said your family was gone," she signed back quietly. 

"I thought so, too." 

"Why don't you go out there and talk to him? If he's in our neck of the woods, he must be looking for you." 

His hands hesitated. "It's complicated." 

Jenny  laughed. "It always is, sugar." She hugged him tightly. "Go on. You've been missing him, too. Ever since you got here, I've been able to tell." 

"How?"

"Those  eyes of yours are very expressive," she remarked. "They've been full of melancholy and sorrow. But a second ago, I saw joy along with the panic in those blues." 

He swallowed hard and hesitated again.  

" Cas , you get your tail out in that dining room and you talk to that boy,"  Jenny  said sternly. "Mike and I can take care of the orders while you take your break." 

He hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. She'd been very much like a sister these past months. He wouldn't have survived without her. He signed "Thank you" before heading out through the swinging door to the dining room. 

***************************************************************************************

"I don't know, Sam. It was just a hunch. I don't think it's  gonna  pan out. I'll be home  late tonight , unless you have something for me  in this general vicinity. Ok. Good. I'll check back in later." 

Dean sighed heavily as he hung up the phone and put it on the table next to his empty plate.  Sam was worried he was going off the rails. And maybe he was.  

He was about to give up the ghost when a movement caught his eye.  He looked up and into a  p air of familiar blue eyes. His heart fluttered and jittered to a stop. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, to  make sure he wasn't just seeing things, to make sure he wasn't seeing  a  nearly - six foot tall ex-angel of the Lord in a faded AC/DC t - shirt ten feet away from him.  

He still loo ks  like himself ,  Dean  thought inanely  with great relief. He turned as if to get out of the booth, but he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him. 

" Cas ?"  He hated that his voice was weak, that he could barely utter the syllable. But he didn't say it again, couldn't say anything until the vision in front of him confirmed what his eyes were telling him.  

The vision nodded solemnly, those big blue eyes full of uncertainty and fear.  He was taken aback by that fear, so he didn't launch himself at the man like he had in Purgatory, even though he was just as glad to see him alive. 

" Cas ?" he said again, louder this time. Blue eyes blinked as he shook himself out of his reverie and moved closer. "Do you  wanna  sit?" 

Cas  shook his head and gestured toward the front door. Dean nodded. He  tossed some money on the table,  grabbed his phone and followed his  friend.

C as  didn't stop walking until he got to the Impala. Once there ,  he  leaned against the trunk and lo oked  at Dean,  sadness and uncertainty shini ng in his eyes.

  
"I'm sorry,  Cas ."    
Dark brows knit together.  "For what?"  His look seemed to say.    
"I saw..."    
Oh.    
Cas nodded, his eyes skittering away.    
"I know you can't talk. I know what  Metatron  did. I know he took your Grace and your voice.  "    
Blue eyes came back to question.    
"I didn't think you'd be able to visit my dreams anymore."    
So they WERE real.    
He shrugged. He didn't have any answer s ,  just stood there silently until Dean got frustrated.    
"Come on,  Cas . I know you can't speak but you can communicate."    
Not with you,  Cas  signed.    
"Yeah, no.  I don't know what that means."    
Exactly,  Cas ' eyes said.    
"Are you mad at me  Cas ? I know you told me you weren't sure if we could forgive you, but then you told me where you were."    
He shook his head and whipped out his pad and pen.    
_ Not mad at anyone except myself. _   
  
Dean read it quickly before  Cas  whipped it back and wrote something else.    
_ Y o u  s hould be mad a t me too. _   
Dean sighed. " Cas ..." He looked into those blue eyes. "We've talked about this...sort of.  D'you remember ?"    
  
Cas  nodded.    
"Then you should remember I told you that it doesn't matter. I'm not mad, man. Sam isn't mad. We were scared. We didn't know what happened to you, if you were alive, if you had your memory. You know we can't afford to lose anyone else."    
Cas  wrote again.  _ I' m  useles s . _ __   
"Stop.  Just because you don't have your angel mojo anymore that doesn't mean you're useless."    
_ You don't need me anymore. _   
" Cas , we've been over this. You are family.  You, me, and Sam.  Team Free Will. Weren't you the one who said a third wheel provides more stability? Don't glare at me, those were _your_ words."    
_What do you want me to say, Dean?_      
"How about that you're coming home with me?"    
_Home_ ,  Cas  thought wistfully. The bunker where he'd spent one night before his whole world had fallen apart.    
He'd spent more time in this motel diner in the middle of nowhere but it hadn't felt like home. It  was  his, but it wasn't home.    
He had friends, but not family.    
Dean, he mouthed.    
"You don't belong here,  Cas . You belong with us in the bunker. You belong where I can see you."    
Cas  scribbled angrily. _I'm not a child that needs babysitting!_   
"Not what I meant,  Cas . It's obvious you can take care of yourself, and that you've been doing pretty well for yourself for the past few months."    
_Then what?_     
Dean started to get embarrassed, but now was not the time to bow out because of red cheeks. Even if it was in dreams, they'd been communicating.    
"Listen. Sammy's still on the mend, and we've got our hands full trying to find a solution to the problem. Garth, Kevin and even Charlie are there, but it's not enough. I can keep an eye on them, I know where they are at the end of the day,  I  know they're ok. I don't have to stress out and worry. I don't have to lose sleep wondering if they're out there, if they're ok. It gives me peace of mind."    
Cas  tilted his head and glared at such an obvious ploy.    
"Don't give me that look,  Cas . I'm not  gonna  force you. You know I won't. I just wanted to let you in on my selfish reasons, why it would be good for ME if you came home. It has to be your choice. I can drive away and leave you here if you want me to."    
  
Cas  flashed back to that last night in the bar, when Dean was going on about ET and how he was going to let  Cas  go home.    
He'd been mistaken, of course, but once he'd puzzled it out,  Cas  wasn't sure to be touched or saddened by the fact that Dean was willing to let go of him so easily.    
Now he knew it hadn't been easy.    
Looking closer, he could see the truth in Dean's eyes. He didn't need his Grace to see that Dean was exhausted, down to his soul.    
Cas  wished he could fix it.    
The only way he could ease the hunter's mind was to be there for him.    
Truth was ,  he missed Dean. He missed Sam. He missed them SO much that he physically ached, fell asleep crying and woke up with tears on his face.    
He hesitated, scribbling slowly.    
_You don't care that I 'm broken_?    
He didn't want to see the pity in his eyes, like he'd seen so often here.    
" Cas , buddy, listen to me.  You're not broken beyond all  repair , at least, no worse than the rest of us.  You 're  just human. And I'm sorry  that happened, I am . I'm just glad you're alive. And, like I said, it's  gotta  be your choice. If you don't want to, if you  wanna  stick here and maybe have 2.5 and a picket fence with the cute blonde then do that. Whatever you want, whatever is going to make you happiest.  THAT is what I want for you."    
Cas  looked at Dean on that infernal angel of The Lord way of his. "What?"    
Castiel  shook his head. He didn't think of himself as much of a prize, but it seemed like Dean was again doing that thing of his where he put everyone's happiness ahead of his. He just didn't have it in him to be selfish. And there wasn't anything he could deny Dean.  Even if he didn't ask for it.   
He looked at his watch and scribbled a note.  _  I _ _have to get back inside._     
Dean bravely tried to hide his disappointment. "That's fine. I understand."    
He turned away, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back to see  Cas  looking at him reproachfully. He held up an index finger to indicate that Dean wait while he scribbled a novel.    
"Don't jump to conclusions again. I owe these people a great deal. I can't just pick up and go. Especially not in the middle of my shift." 

"So does that mean you're coming home with me?"    
_If you don't mind waiting._     
"Not a bit."    
" _Can I buy you lunch? Maybe some more pie_?"    
"Hell yes, man. That was you?  Seriously?"   
Cas  nodded proudly.    
"Amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the format. It's probably kinda messy and there are probably some mistakes, but I'm without internet at home and wanted to post something before I went home from work.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one

 

When they go back in,  Cas  has Dean resume his seat at his booth while he goes back to the kit chen to break the news to Jenny .

  
"Oh, honey. I'm so sad you're leaving, but I am s o happy you have family." She  hugged him  tightly.  "And don't worry about us, sugar.  Daisy and Earl  and I will be just fine. We're  gonna  miss those pies of yours, though.” Her brown eyes shone with tears. “ I'm  gonna  miss you a lot though." 

  
Her sadness tugged at his heart. As sweet and friendly as Jenny was, he knew she was lonely, so h e hugged her tightly and pulled back to tell her tha t he would still be friends. It would be easy, now that he understood the ins and outs of the computer—thanks to her.

Cas  asked her to break the news to  Earl and Daisy ,  making sure to promise  a c ouple dozen pies before he left.  His smile faltered as she went through the swinging doors. He was going to miss her. She seemed more like a sister than any of the angels ever had.  He was going to miss all of his diner family.

Before he got maudlin, he got to work  on Dean's lunch.  He didn't even ask him to know :  Bacon burger,  fries, more pie. The hunter was a man of simple tastes.    
  
He quickly put togethe r the food—with a slice of apple pie this time—and  sent it out with Jenny , along with his room key and  a note suggesting D ean grab a n ap over in his room until he was finished with work.

  
He smiled when Jenny  came back to tell him how Dea n was raving over his burger, pausing  in rolling out dough to peek through the window .  Dean  was  grinning, his mouth full. 

  
Same ol d  Dean. Made happy by so very little.

After two pieces of pie and that masterpiece of a burger, he took  Cas  up on his offer and headed over to the motel to grab some shut eye.

He hadn’t actually been in too many motel rooms lately. He had been keeping close to home, close to the bunker while Sam was getting better.  Since the angel storm  hit things had been fairly quiet. Which was odd, considering they had the so-called King of Hell locked in their dungeon and there were now  _ who knows how many _  angels on Earth.  _Something_   should be happening.

 

But Dean was glad there wasn't much going on. He needed his brother whole, and he needed his-- Cas , he needed  Cas  alive and well and in the vicinity, and this hunting downtime gave all of that a chance to happen. As soon as everyone was together and well, then they would focus on the silence. While Sam was working on digitizing the library--with Charlie's help, of course, Charlie and Kevin and Garth were all keeping their ears to the ground for angel activity in their area. 

But right now, there was only one angel Dean gave a damn about and he'd found him and was going to take him home. He felt like a load of bricks had been lifted from his chest, and now even though he could breathe, he was exhausted. 

He didn't know what to expect when he unlocked the door to unit 12, but it wasn't what he got. The room didn't look like a crappy cookie cutter room, with the ugly flowered bedspread and plain, dingy walls that usually greeted him in the smaller establishments.

The room was filled with color. The walls were a light blue, the curtains and bedspread all a darker shade. There were prints of brightly painted sunsets and flowers on the wall, photographs  taken in nature...There were pillows of all sizes and colors on the bed and couch. There was a stack of  cds  next to a small cd player. He didn't mean to snoop, but he  _ had _  to look. Amid all the Beethoven, Chopin,  Carmen , and John Mayer (What?!?) were Joan Baez, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin. 

Dean chuckled softly.  Maybe some of those music lessons had sunk in.

He trailed his fingertips over the desktop just soaking in the essence of his absent friend. He stopped when his index finger met a sketch book. It was flipped open, so all Dean had to do was slide the book from under the newspaper that was covering it. He was slightly surprised to find a detailed drawing of the anti-possession symbol  the brothers wore under their shirts. It reminded him that  Cas  needed one now. There were any number of demons--including the one under his own roof--that would love to have their own fallen angel  meatsuit , but especially  Cas '.

Yawning, he slid the sketch book back where he found it. Now that he was here, now that he'd found  Cas ,  and had been fed, he was so sleepy. The couch was too small to hold him, so he headed for the bed. He chose the right side of the bed, where the table was empty--there was a water bottle and a book on the other table, so he assumed that's where  Cas  slept. He thought it would be a little weird to sleep in his spot. 

Dean wearily rid himself of his boots and flopped back onto the pillow, not smelling the funk of an old motel room, but sunshine and sandalwood  and clean linen. He turned on his side and snuggled into the blankets, inhaling deeply, already falling into the best sleep he'd had in months. 


	9. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads, subscriptions, Kudos, etc! It warms the Cockles of my heart when I get a notification. Sorry this update has taken forever. I'm trying to finish a novel for publication and it's taking FOREVER. I hope you guys are enjoying this story.   
> I wanted to get in an update so there may be a few mistakes in format, perhaps in emphasis. I'll fix it later on when this story nears completion. Thanks!

When Dean wakes in the unfamiliar bed, the sun is gone. It's dark in the room, but for a small lamp in the corner. He blinks, once, twice, and concentrates on the noises in the room. The a/c is going, the shower is running. 

He blinked a few more times as he sat up, stretching his still sleepy limbs and cracking his stiff neck. There was a note on the table next to him. 

_ Sorry It's  taken  so long. I had to prepare a couple dozen pies and say goodbye. I'll shower and pack everything up and then I'll be ready to go. _

Blunt fingertips traced the scrawl on the paper before folding it and putting it in his pocket. He ran his hands through his disheveled hair and looked around the room at all the stuff  Cas  had already packed. The walls were now bare, the flat surfaces now covered with small boxes and bags...and...

"What the hell?"

The table was covered with knives...Like, hunting knives. Dean knew  Cas  was good with his angel blade, but he thought he was going to have to go through some weapons training. The angel--ex-angel wasn't good with firearms. Well, at least he  wasn't . Dean wasn't sure now. 

Before he  has a chance to do any hands-on s nooping the bathroom door opens and  Cas  walks out sopping wet, with a only a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes veer to the empty bed then over to see Dean standing over his knife collection.

Dean smiles weakly. "Uh, looks like you're prepared for...well, I was  gonna  say the Apocalypse, but we've already been there a couple times."  What the hell, man? It's just skin.   Before he averted his eyes, he noted the anti-possession tattoo on his clavicle, near the same place where Dean and Sam had theirs.

"Good idea. Smart." His words were hard to get out.

Cas  looked up at him from where he was gathering clothing to give him a questioning glance.

  
Dean pointed to the same area on his own body. "Uh, the tat, man. Good idea."

Cas  looked down at the body art, his cheeks turning a little red. He nodded as if to say, "Well, what are  ya gonna  do?"  before disappearing back into the bathroom with his bundle. 

Dean scrubbed his calloused hand over his face and blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Ok. Well, that's one less thing to worry about."

Turning on his heel, he bent to inspect the photos that had been gathered on the dresser. There were several of  Cas  but none with him alone. There were several with the waitress Dean had  met earlier that day, a few with a smiling older couple, even a few with  Cas  and the older lady in a kitchen, covered in flour and some with the older man looking under the engine of a car. 

Dean smiled. Maybe the angel's "people skills" were a little less "rusty" these days.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Dammit,  Cas . We're  gonna  need to get you a bell," he kidded, turning to look at the man who was looking at him with those sober blue eyes of his. "You 'bout ready?"

Cas  looked around the room and back at Dean, nodding. "Ok, well, I can start getting stuff loaded, if you want to show me what's ready to go."

Castiel  nodded and pointed to everything that was ready. Dean grabbed his jacket and a box and headed out  the door into the cold night. 

It only took about twenty minutes to get everything loaded up. There were a few small boxes that fit in the backseat of the Impala--the duffle  o'weapons  went into the trunk with the rest of the arsenal .

"Is that everything?" Dean asked, once all the carrying had been done. 

Cas  glanced around the room, making sure he took what was his and left what wasn't. He grabbed the patchwork blue blanket from the loveseat and folded it quickly before stowing it in the duffle with his clothes.

He nodded, shouldering his bag and walking out into the cold, locking the door behind him. Dean couldn't miss the shivering  Cas  was doing. Upon closer inspection, he realized  Cas  was only wearing a thin cotton hoodie. 

"Hey,  didja  lose the trench?"

Cas  shook his head and pointed to the car, a weird look in his eyes. Dean decided not to press the subject, just made a mental note to hook the guy up with a decent winter coat.

"Oh," he nodded, as if he understood when he didn't. "Right on." When he started for the car,  Cas  put a hand on his arm. When he turned,  Cas  indicated that he needed to go to the  office. "Ok. Want me to come with?"  Cas  shrugged.  Well, that's helpful.  When  Cas  turned to walk away, Dean held him back. "Wait." He took the heavy bag from  Cas ' shoulders and put it on his own. When  Cas  gave him a questioning look, Dean just jerked his head towards the office. "Get ta  steppin ."

Once in the warm office, Dean was lost. The waitress, who introduced herself as Jenny, was there for another round of goodbyes. The older couple Dean recognized from the pictures were also there. Dean watched as  Cas  conversed with Jenny, their  hands flying .

Dean awkwardly stood back and watched his friend interact with his new family, getting hugs from the teary woman Jenny whispered to him was named "Daisy." Her husband is "Earl," and they own both the diner and the motel, and she's the one who taught  Cas  to bake and he is the one who taught  Cas  about cars.

His stomach plummeted. He tried not to feel bitter or jealous that these very nice people taught  Cas  things Dean himself should have been able to teach, that he wanted to teach his friend.

"Oh, good. I'm glad he remembered his blanket."

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?"

Jenny pointed to the blue blanket that was on the top of the bag Dean was holding. "His blanket. I made it for him. Matches his eyes, don't you think?" Dean nodded absently. 

"So, Dean...I'm really glad you came for him. Don't get me wrong," Jenny whispered confidentially, "I'm going to miss the hell out of him, but I am glad he has family out there. He's a lonely, sweet man with one of the most beautiful souls I've ever met."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he whispered huskily. "I'm glad he's ok. Thanks for taking care of him. He's pretty special."

Jenny didn't get to say anything else.  Cas  turned and grabbed her for one last hug before they left. She whispered something in  Cas ' ear that made him smile. He kissed her cheek once and looked at Dean. 

"Ready,  Cas ?"

He nodded and led the way from the office.

Once they were ensconced in the car, Dean made no move to start the car.

"You know,  Cas , I'm a little disappointed. I'm not  gonna  lie."

Hurt emanated from the blue eyes next to him. "Don't look at me like that. Let me explain."

Cas  nodded, waiting. 

Dean took a deep breath.   "Some of the angels we've found were completely lost, not sure how to do anything. So they had to be taught. And I figured if- when -we found you,  you  might be in bad shape. We might have had to go over the basics.  Might have to teach you how to cook, how to take care of yourself.  But you've mastered that. You were a warrior of Heaven, so you've got some crazy  self defense  skills  already . I  mean,  maybe we can teach you about guns, but you've got everything else taken care of. And the tattoo.  Sammy and I were getting excited about getting you inked. We took Charlie to get hers...

  
"I'm getting off track. What I'm trying to say is that I'm proud of you, man. You've done really well for yourself. You're your own man. You don't need  me,  don't need me or Sammy telling what to do or how to do it. You've got it. And that's great. Maybe there's s omething  you can teach us. I mean, you shouldn't have to write a novel every time you have something to say. Maybe teach us how to communicate. Until we figure  away  to get that voice of yours to work." His voice was tentative. He glanced over to see  Cas  nodding but looking straight ahead. 

"But also...listen, man. It looks like you've done pretty well for yourself here. You've got a good thing going...What I'm trying to say... Cas , I don't want you to think that you  have   to come with me. If you want to stay here and keep on  keepin  on, then I don't want to stop you. Free will and all that. I just want you to know that you have a place with us if you want one."

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see  Cas  staring pointedly at the ignition and then back at Dean, who let out another breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "All right, then. Let's get on the road."

It took just a few minutes for the car to heat up and then they were pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the highway.

Dean was grinning like an idiot as the Impala flew down the road.    
  
He didn't see the tears dripping down his passenger's smiling face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter to part one of a possible three part series. I appreciate the reading and the kudos and all the good vibes sent my way. This last chapter is unbeta'd, not even really read over. It has taken me forever to sit down and get it done, and I wanted to post it asap. There are a few weird things(to me) in there that I will take care of once I decide to edit the hell out of this story. Stay tuned.

The ride back to the bunker was mostly silent. It didn't bother Dean, that silence. He didn't feel the need to fill it with one sided conversation anymore.  Cas  was there,  Cas  was next to him. There would be plenty of time to catch up and make plans. Right now, the hunter just wanted to glory in the angel's presence.

Once they were on the highway, the open road ahead of them,  Cas  hesitantly reached for the radio dials and switched it on, looking at Dean as if to ask "Is this ok?"

Dean's gaze flickered over. "Go ahead."

Smiling slightly,  Cas  turned the knob until he heard a soft  Skynyrd  song playing.

A laugh huffed out of Dean. "Really?"

Cas  cocked his head in that familiar way of his and nodded.

"I approve of  whoever's been in charge of your musical education," he chuckled dryly, bringing his attention back to the road while  Cas  settled in for a nap. 

Dean didn't mind the silence. His whole being buzzed with pleasant sensations. Since his nap in  Cas ' room, those sensations--and the radio--kept him company for the hours it took to make it to the halfway point. 

He stopped off at the same store he'd stopped earlier for some caffeine. He hesitated before nudging sleeping  Cas ' shoulder.

" Cas . Hey, bud. Last chance to use the facilities until we get home."

Cas  blinked himself awake  and got out of the car. Eyes bleary, he followed Dean into the bright store. He walked around for a minute to get his blood moving, just looking at the tacky Native American souvenirs while Dean headed for the restroom.

When he came back out and headed for the coffee bar,  Cas  headed for the restroom. 

When he left the store a few minutes later, bottle of water in hand, he saw Dean leaning against the trunk of the car, sipping at a cup of coffee.

He pulled out his ever-present notepad and pencil and scribbled a quick note as he came around the back.

Dean nodded at him and took another drink.  Cas  handed him the notepad, his fingers nearly numb from the cold. 

"What's up?"

_ You mentioned my musical education earlier. _

"Yeah?"

Cas  scribbled again.  _ YOU laid the groundwork. Jenny provided the materials. _

"Oh yeah?" Dean sounded pleased as he shuffled his feet. "Well, if there was something of mine to rub off on you, that's not a bad thing."

Cas  huffed a quiet snort through his nose and wrote some more.  _ The music helps me sleep. Otherwise it's too quiet. _

Dean looked at the words for a few moments before he understood their significance. "Oh. No more Angel Radio."

Cas  nodded slightly, his chest tightening.

"I'm sorry, man. I get it, I do. I know what it's like to be alone with just your thoughts to keep you company. The background noise is a nice distraction."

Cas  nodded again as Dean pulled out his phone. "Let's get out of here. There's a few more hours to go, so let's get comfy."

Shooting a quick text to Sam, he started the car and cranked up the heat. Sam's response was quick, considering how late it was. "Thanks. Now go to bed." His brother shouldn't even be up; he was still getting his strength back.

Coffee in hand, his best friend snuggled under a blue patchwork blanket, Dean drove, putting in a tape when the radio went  staticky . 

He hadn't been this relaxed in a while. Well, he was as relaxed as he could be with the former King of Hell residing in the dungeon underneath where three of the people he care for most in the world were living while he was out getting the fourth.

It was almost five a.m. when the Impala pulled up  to the bunker. Dean woke  Cas  up before quickly grabbing one of the boxes from the back seat, rifling through it to make sure it was the right one while  Cas  grabbed his clothes-filled duffle.

"We'll get the rest later," Dean promised, his step a little weary as he led the way down the stairs to the building  Cas  had only set foot in once before.

Still sleepy,  Cas  didn't take the time to look around, just followed Dean where he led. When they reached a familiar hallway, Dean slowed down. "Kevin's in here." He nodded to the first closed door on their right. "Charlie's across the hall there. You're  gonna  get a kick out of her. She's been dying to meet you. Just don't listen if she starts talking about those Carver  Edlund  books." Moving on a little further, he indicates the room next to Charlie's. "Sammy's in there. I'm across from him."

Cas  remembered Dean's room, barely. It's where he'd stayed after the boys had found him lying injured in the middle of the road after Crowley'd  shot him with the angel blade bullet. He also remembered Dean's behavior towards him the day after.

"This is you." Dean stopped in front of the door just beyond his (how many bedrooms did this place have, anyway?). Dean opened the door and turned on the light to reveal a room that had been fully furnished. When he'd left the night before, the room had been devoid of furniture and color. Looks like his bunker buddies took care of the decorat ing.

The bed had been dressed in blue linens, small tables placed on either side of the bed. Lining one wall was a desk and two chairs. Next to the door was a small bookshelf, sparsely populate d with paperbacks and random knick knacks.  Cas ' eyes widened as he took in the framed photos scattered amongst the other inhabitants of the shelves. 

There was one of Sam and Dean that looked recent, even one of himself and Dean, which surprised and pleased him. There was a picture of the prophet, and one of a pretty redhead he didn't recognize but supposed must be Charlie. 

When he turned grateful and questioning eyes to the hunter, Dean shrugged. "Must have been Charlie's work."

Turning to the bed, his bed, he saw a lamp on one of the tables, and a small CD player on the other. He turned back to look at Dean, who was still holding the box. 

"What?"

Cas  shook his head and mouthed  _Thank you_.

"Don't mention it, man. Now, if you need anything, bathroom's down the hall, kitchen's on the main floor, and I'm right next door. I mean, it, man. If you need anything, come find me."

Lump in his throat,  Cas  nodded, following Dean to the door. Before they could make it, Dean spun around and pulled  Cas  into a tight embrace.

It was late, Dean was exhausted and relieved, so relieved, that he didn't even try to stop the words that came when  Cas '  arms encircled him just as tightly.

"I was scared I would never see you again, man. I'm so glad you're here. "

The moment didn't last long. Dean briefly buried his face in the shorter man's neck and squeezed him tightly before letting him go. " G'night ,  Cas ."

Cas  grabbed his hand and squeezed once tightly before  allowing Dean to leave. That one squeeze said everything he literally couldn't.  _ Thank you. Thank you. I love you. Thank you.  _

**Author's Note:**

> This is slow going for me, so I will update as often as I can. This is my first foray into actual ficdom, so bear with me. This is an unbeta'd work, and I am considering these posts as workshopping, so while they are "finished," they aren't "finished," if you get me.


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